Reunion
by IreneHolmes
Summary: Sometimes, coming home is joy enough.
1. Chapter 1

He could tell she didn't know.

He could _feel_ she didn't know, and somehow the thought that he could surprise her after so long made him feel young again. Simply being where he was, on the deck of the ship as it cut through waves and foam, made him feel young. He could sense the weight of the ages lifting from him with each passing second, and he found himself smiling. 

He hadn't _really_ smiled in uncounted years. 

The harbor was in sight, and beyond it he could see the gathered crowds. Most were there for the Lady who stood beside him arrayed in white and gold (he could see faces he'd long since thought forgotten in time peering through the mess of people at the eastern sea), but a few perhaps stood there for him. 

And what of _her_? 

He glanced to Galadriel, his thought a probing question. She paused, closed her eyes, and shook her head. _No._ the message came back. _She is busily preparing for the feast that shall mark my return, and there she plans to greet me. And no, she has no idea yet that you accompany me. She had thought you would wait until Estel was gone before sailing._

_I could not wait that long._ he thinks, and tries to hide his growing excitement. Galadriel smiles warmly. 

"I shall make your excuses." she says. "Ereinion at least will understand." 

"Ereinion?" he asks, the thought of seeing his cousin again after so long snapping him out of his reverie. 

"He waits for you, with a horse to spare. I imagine he would not be unsurprised to find you eager to depart for Tirion." 

"Tirion?" A second shock. He blinks. The Lady beside him merely laughs. 

"Celebrían is my heir, Elrond. The youngest scion of the line of Arafinwë. And I daresay she'll answer to Tyelpetári if you call her by that name - from what I can gather, she's become quite the court favorite." 

That did surprise him, the thought of delicate, shy, sweet (though for all her smiles she had a core of molten steel) Celebrían playing the political games of the Noldor. _Much must have changed since our last parting._

_Good._


	2. Chapter 2

No sooner has he stepped off the gangplank onto the white shores of Avallonë than he's assailed. He wasn't truly minding the crowd, focused more on assisting Bilbo (who already seems younger; he can see the hobbit shedding the years just as he himself is) than watching for old friends, but when a pair of strong arms encircled him and pulled him off his feet he was forced to pay attention.

"What - ?" he began, but then a familiar laugh cut him off.

"'Tis about time you arrived, old friend." a voice murmured in his ear, and Elrond shifted out of the newcomer's grasp until his feet were on the ground again.

"Ereinion!" he cried, forgetting Bilbo entirely in favor of his cousin. They embraced, and Elrond found himself fighting back tears of joy and relief. He'd feared his cousin might not yet be re-embodied, that he would be entirely alone (Glorfindel was waiting until his sons made their Choice before sailing, and in that interlude he and Erestor would rule the valley together) save for his wife and kindred he'd never met, but his fears were groundless. For here was Gil-galad, alive and well and looking far better than he'd ever seemed in Arda Marred.

"So tell me, cousin," the dark-haired elf said, putting his arm about Elrond's shoulders, "is it true that you held off five of the Ulaer with only the Bruinen as a weapon?"

Elrond laughed heartily, already feeling himself fall back into old patterns. "If you like that story, you should hear how Glorfindel and my sons defended the northern pass from the Witch-King of Angmar before I finished the fight."

"As I recall," Ereinion answered, "you nearly got yourself killed over that."

"I learned valuable information about our enemy's weapons."

"By nearly dying."

"A technicality."

"_Elrond._"

The peredhel sighed. "I was perhaps a little foolish. I've never been one to back down from a fight. Not when darkness threatens those I care for."

"No. But I did worry about you - I wasn't there to get you out of whatever trouble you found yourself in."

Bilbo stood alone, stammering, one finger pointing after the retreating figures, until at last he found his voice and practically squeaked. "_Gil-galad?_"

The two elves made their way through the crowd, unaware of anything but their conversation, until finally Gil-galad paused before two horses. One was a solid gelding, his coat black as midnight, and the other was a light mare the color of burnished copper.

"Her name is Haloisi." his cousin said, and Elrond raised a wary eyebrow.

"The sea in a storm?"

"Fear not, cousin." Ereinion answered with a laugh. "She'll bear you over the bridge and all the way to Tirion without fail."

"Good." Elrond said, swinging onto her back with practiced ease. "There's someone I need to see."


	3. Chapter 3

If there was one thing Tyelpetári Artaníel (because she was her mother's daughter here) despised about court affairs, it was having to dress the part of a proper lady.

"Lairë," she said, and her maid straightened to attention, "you may leave me and make your own preparations. I am perfectly capable of fastening up my gown and of doing my hair."

The dark-haired woman nodded and slipped out of the chamber, leaving Tyelpetári alone. She sighed and disrobed, leaving the pale violet shift she'd brought from Imladris on her bed before fighting her way into the cream lace underdress she'd had made especially for that day, and then the silk bliaut done in deep indigo with gold trim on top of that. It was cool in the evenings, and the layers would not stifle her. She looked at herself in her mirror and sighed. Beautiful, even with her hair loose and undone; even _she_ could acknowledge that. By all accounts she ought to be happy for this night. Her mother was at last returning home, and her grandfather was beyond ecstatic to have the last of his children returned to him. _And I am happy as well. I shall see my nana again after so long_.

_I _am_ happy. I am very happy and my nana will be happy to see me and we will all. Be. Happy._

_This is Aman. You can't be unhappy in Aman._

_But..._

His name was on her lips almost instantly, and when she whispered it the word turned to a prayer, and a plea, and a moan of longing representing countless sleepless nights, and a resignation to emptiness. _He will wait until Estel has died. I know he will. But..._

She groaned and sank her head into her hands before sitting down on the stool before her boudoir.

_Husband, meleth, el-nîn, please... please come back to me..._

There was a knock on her door, and Tyelpetári flinched and mentally cursed herself for being so sentimental. _It's probably Lairë, with something I've forgotten. Lovely._

"Tolo." she called in lilting Sindarin, reveling in the moment when her first language was in her throat once more, and the door opened. _No one here speaks Sindarin. It's all Quenya, which is lovely enough, but I miss the softness of my mother tongue._ She picked up her brush and began to work at her hair, focused on a particularly frustrating tangle. She didn't look up.

"Lairë," she said, switching back to Quenya, "you do not need to assist me. As I said, I'm perfectly capable of - "

"_Celebrían._"

She dropped the brush and heard it smack against the floor. Slowly, carefully, hardly daring to breathe in case this was some vision or ghost, she turned around on her stool and looked up.

He was there before her, wearing crimson robes, the same circlet on his brow that he'd worn for their wedding. Were it not for the lines on his face, each one a sign of some new worry or fear, she would have thought him a figment of her (admittedly overactive) imagination.

For a long moment, she sat and stared at him. Her heart thudded in her ears, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Here. He's _here_. He's _here, in front of you, right now._

Slowly she got to her feet, not taking her eyes off of him. Not even blinking, for fear he would vanish. She inched closer to him, each step taking another fraction of their distance away, and as she moved she opened up her mind tentatively. Waiting. Hoping.

_Elrond...?_

And he answered, their marital bond crashing over her like waves long held back by a now-broken sea wall.

That was all the sign she needed.

"_Elrond!_" she cried, and threw herself into his arms, knocking him completely off balance and back onto her bed. They were laughing before they even hit the mattress, and as her lips met his she knew that at last she'd come home.


End file.
